


Jesse Eisenberg and The Situation Walk Into A Bar

by sloganeer



Category: Jersey Shore - Fandom, Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/pseuds/sloganeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>your man can't do what I can do</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jesse Eisenberg and The Situation Walk Into A Bar

**Author's Note:**

> For the [](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/profile)[**tsn_kinkmeme**](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/) prompt: [Andrew/Jesse, Jesse/The Situation. The bar scenario occurs irl. Andrew is less than pleased.](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/9415.html?thread=17600967#t17600967)

They spend Hanukkah at home with the family, but on the ninth night, Andrew drags Jesse off his parents's couch and demands he take them to the best bar in Jersey.

"When in our four years together have I ever given you the impression I know any bar in New Jersey?"

Andrew laughs, and he buries his face in Jesse's neck like he can't stand how funny it is. But he also holds Jesse's hands with their fingers tangled together and he promises they don't have to dance. Jesse takes a Xanax and calls them a cab.

The bar isn't the best in Jersey. It's just the bar Jesse knows. Kids in high school used to talk about how to get in, where to buy good fake IDs, and which nights the hot bartender worked. There's no line outside, but it's definitely open.

Andrew steps in an icy puddle getting out of the cab, soaking his orange canvas shoes.

"No, no," he says. He does a little dance, shaking each foot in turn. "That's my fault. We're doing this. No excuses."

The music is awful. It's nothing Jesse recognizes. Andrew shoves up to the bar, hand up to get the bartender's attention and some drinks. Jesse spots the neon jukebox in a sliver of space between the moving bodies. He lets Andrew's hand fall and wanders away.

He's curious. The song doesn't sound familiar, he just wants to know. The whole jukebox is the eighties. Not even Andrew's taste in music is this awful.

"Ciao, signorina." Some guy to Jesse's left is hitting on a girl. It's a bar; it's to be expected. When the Italian doesn't work, he tries again. "You here alone?"

Jesse flips through the albums, looking for something he can deal with for the length of a drink. An arm falls along the top of the jukebox, and Jesse has to look up.

"Ciao, signorina," the guy says.

"Wait, you were talking to me?"

"You like music?" He looks Italian, typical Jersey. His shirt has roses and gold leaf. Jesse sees a lot of them in LA, in particular.

"I don't understand." Jesse looks back at the bar, hoping for a glance of Andrew's hair and a rescue.

"Lemme buy you a drink." The guy's still trying, even when Jesse isn't looking.

It's almost interesting. "This works for you?" Jesse leans into the jukebox and waits for his boyfriend to notice the competition.

"It working for you?" He takes a long drink from his beer, holding Jesse's eyes and fellating his bottle. It's definitely interesting. Jesse didn't know people like this actually existed in the world.

Someone grabs his hip and pushes a glass into his hand. Jesse startles before he realizes it's Andrew. "Hi!" he says, far too loud and cheerful for the fake smile stretching his face. "Thanks for keeping my boyfriend company, but we're good now."

The guy nods. He holds up a fist, and it takes a moment, but Jesse figures out he's supposed to do something with his own fist. "It's cool, Spiderman." He salutes Andrew with his bottle and walks around them to a booth filled with guys who look just like him.

Jesse lets Andrew stare and splutter. He turns back to the jukebox. Jesse wants to play some Bon Jovi for Andrew, get the bridge and tunnel out of his system. Maybe they won't have to come back until Passover.

"I know you didn't want to go out, but that's no reason to flirt with greasy Jersey guys." Andrew's hands are on his hips and his chest puffed out.

Jesse sips his tonic and lemon. He watches over the rim of the glass and doesn't say anything.

"You were totally leaning into him." Andrew slams his own glass on top of the jukebox. He's not actually angry, and Jesse waits for him to figure that out. "You had your That's Interesting, Tell Me More face on."

"You have your I'm Stupid And I Don't Deserve My Boyfriend face on."

Andrew narrows his eyes and wrinkles his forehead. He still looks beautiful. "You're stupid."

"Give me a quarter and when you're done being ridiculous, I'll let you grope me on the dance floor."

They don't make it to the end of the four minute rock song. The Jersey guy with the bad Italian has disappeared into the crowd, and Andrew stops looking over his shoulder. At about the one minute mark, Jesse starts to feel brave in the anonymity, like he never did in high school. By the time the chorus comes around again, he slips his hands down to Andrew's ass in his tight jeans and yanks him close.

"I thought you were going to let me grope you," Andrew says, low and raspy in his ear. Andrew keeps his hands on Jesse's hips. It's the only way they can dance, if Andrew keeps the rhythm.

"You know that guy?" Jesse says. Andrew's fingers clench, then relax. "He walked up to me and said Ciao, signorina, like it was no big deal. It made me wonder what kind of person I'd be if things like that were no big deal."

He can feel how hard Andrew is in his jeans. Jesse leans up and brushes his lips over the stubble on his jaw.

"You wouldn't be Jesse, that's who you'd be," Andrew says, and he looks so serious.

"Huh." Jesse hadn't considered that possibility, that he could change one thing and become a fictional version of himself. "I don't like that."

With an arm around his shoulders, Andrew leads Jesse out of the bar. "Me, neither. So call a cab, Jess, and take me to the best bed in Jersey."

They make out in the backseat, even though Jesse didn't drink, and Andrew only had the one. Jesse's not thinking about that guy anymore, except to wonder if he found someone to take home. Maybe he tried a girl next. He seems the kind of guy who plays the odds.

"Hey," Andrew says, hands in Jesse's hair and pulling, just enough. "Stay here with me."

"Yeah, yeah." Jesse wants to be in his lap, but kissing will have to do for now.

His parents are watching Leno when they get back to the house. His mom smiles at them, and Jesse tries to find a discreet way to check that his fly isn't down.

"Have fun, boys?"

Andrew sits on the arm of the couch, with his arms around Jesse pulled tight to his side. "I made your son dance to Bon Jovi," he says, way too proud.

"All right," Jesse says. He twists out of Andrew's hold. "I'm going to bed alone," and he does, heading up the stairs and not daring to look back. He hears Andrew say good night to his parents, and then he hears footsteps follow. He doesn't wait.

Jesse's room isn't as much Jesse's room as it was when he first moved to New York. He took what he really wanted, then came back for the stuff he only realized he wanted when he didn't have it, then came back again when his mom asked to pack up the stuff he didn't want to get rid of just yet. Now it's a guest room, but it's always the room where Jesse sleeps when he visits. Now it's the room where Jesse sleeps with Andrew when they visit.

Sometimes they have sex in Jesse's high school bed. They're definitely having sex tonight.

Andrew slips into the room while Jesse is undressing. He fits himself against Jesse's back, chin on his shoulder. "Let me," he says, unbuttoning the cuffs and pushing both shirts up over Jesse's head.

"You, too," Jesse says, turning in Andrew's arms, yanking on his belt, kissing and getting naked at the same time.

Jesse lands on the bed with Andrew on top, between his legs. Andrew keeps the rhythm.

"You should go faster," Jesse tells him.

"I should shut your mouth," Andrew says, and he does, with his lips, with his tongue, with his perfect white teeth biting and making Jesse groan.

He puts his hands in Andrew's hair, pulling hard when Andrew does something good with his tongue, dragging his fingernails down Andrew's back and grabbing his ass when Andrew stops moving.

"Condom, Jess. My bag." He tries to get off the bed, but Jesse won't let him. After what happened tonight, he doesn't want to let Andrew get too far away.

"Just this," he says. "This is good."

Andrew falls back on his mouth like they haven't been kissing all night. He rubs off on Jesse's stomach, cocks lined up, hard and leaking enough to make the friction good. He plays with one of Jesse's nipples between two fingers, and Jesse lets one finger slide between Andrew's cheeks and over his clenching hole.

The orgasm crashes over Andrew, in his eyes and his mouth fallen open. "Oh, Jess," he gasps, then falls back on the bed before Jesse can come.

"Don't go too far," he says, chasing Andrew with his mouth. They kiss, and Andrew's hand is between them, stroking Jesse until he can't hold back, doesn't want to hold back, not with Andrew, and Jesse makes that embarrassing snort, and he comes.

Andrew laughs, because he always does, even after four years. When he stops laughing, that's when Jesse will worry about what it means.

He reaches across Jesse to grab something--Jesse's shirt--from the mess they left on the floor to wipe up the mess on their stomachs. When Andrew tosses it away, he aims for the laundry hamper in the corner of the room. Jesse settles on his stomach to sleep and doesn't see if Andrew got his three points.

"You don't have to worry about greasy Jersey guys," Jesse says into his pillow. It feels silly that he has to say it at all, but no one else lives inside his head. Not even Andrew. He tries to say the important stuff out loud now. "You don't have to worry about any kind of guys."

"Oh, Jess. I know." Andrew's hand is on his back. He can't stop touching. He circles each bump of Jesse's spine. It always puts Jesse right to sleep. Before he slips away, Jesse hears, "Buona notte, signore," and he knows Andrew is talking to him.


End file.
